"Manasseh," said Kedar in a low tone, "I cannot let them bury him. They would do it with half-heathen rites."
"Can none among all these conduct Christian service?"
"Not one. My mother is the only one who knows aught of Christianity."
"Then," said Manasseh, "if you will let me, I shall offer prayers above his grave."
"No, Manasseh," said Kedar decidedly, "these people would resent it in a stranger. I shall do it; they will grant me the privilege as the right of a son."
"And rightly," exclaimed Manasseh, surprised and pleased at the staunchness with which his cousin took his new stand.
On the following day the funeral wound slowly up the defile to the place of the lonely grave. And there Kedar prayed simply and earnestly, a prayer in which the spiritual enlightenment of the sorrowful people about him was the chief theme. They did not understand all its meaning, but they were impressed by the solemnity and sincerity of the young Arab's manner.
Then the little heap of sand was raised, and four stone slabs were placed, according to Bedouin custom, upon the grave.